


separated

by werealldreaming



Series: companionship [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst, Daemon Separation, Gen, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Rebellion, idk how this is supposed to go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 04:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15016295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werealldreaming/pseuds/werealldreaming
Summary: Matt's always had someone with him to confide in, someone whogetsit. Someone who loves him. But the Galra Empire takes that away.





	separated

**Author's Note:**

> this has been half-edited for... a while now haha. enjoy!

Matt meets Shiro on his first day at the Garrison, when he very nearly slams into Dee. He’s rushing to get to his next class, and as he rounds a corner, there’s suddenly a person in his space. Matt and Dee skid to a stop on the smooth Garrison floor, desperately trying to avoid contact.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” the guy says. “I’m so sorry, that was too close.”

Matt flushes. “It’s okay. It didn’t happen, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Actually,” the guy says, “I was wondering if you could help me? I’m a bit lost.” He looks calm, but his daemon gives him away. She’s shuffling her wings in a clear sign of nerves.

 “Sure,” says Matt. “You’re lost, right? Which class are you trying to get to?”

 “Uh, Biology 201, I think? It’s taught by Professor Holt.”

 “Oh, nice!” Matt says. “You’re in my dad’s class.”

“Your… dad?” The guy stares at him.

“Oh, yeah, I’m Matt Holt.” He puts his hand out awkwardly, and Dee pads over to the guy’s crane daemon. “And this is Dee. Well, Deidra, but nobody calls her that.”

The guy takes his hand. “Shiro. She’s Hoshi.”

“She’s a red-crowned crane, right? I thought that form was pretty rare.” Matt says, starting to head down the hallway.

“Nah,” Shiro says. “Or, well, they’re still not super common, but in Japan they’re seen fairly often. Still not as common as dogs and wolves are here, though.”

“Guess that goes to show how unoriginal us Holts are,” Dee says. Shiro glances at her, surprised. “We always have dog daemon. It’s a family tradition, at this point— honestly, I’m breaking tradition by being a wolf.”

“I think he’s surprised you talked to him,” Matt tells her. “Honestly, you’re one of the most social daemons I know.”

Shiro laughs. “Hoshi’s always been too talkative, too. My family’s pretty traditional, they don’t believe daemons should talk to anyone but their human. But with so much Westernization, they’ll just have to deal with her talking to my friends.”

Matt snorts. “I’d say that’s a good choice. Oh, yeah, his classroom’s the next door.”

“Thanks,” Shiro says. “See you around!”

Matt isn’t expecting to actually see Shiro again, but they turn out to have the same physics class. A class that, as it turns out, Shiro is truly terrible at. Their friendship grows from Matt trying to tutor Shiro and failing miserably ( _how, Shiro?_ ) to an inseperable bond.

 

* * *

 

 

The Kerberos mission launches before Katie’s daemon settles. She tries to hide her disappointment, but Matt can tell she’s upset. Honestly, he can’t blame her— it’s a huge occasion in the Holt family, and she’ll have to celebrate with only half her family. 

He turns to Katie and hugs her tight. “I’m gonna miss you, kid,” he tells her.

"I’ll miss you too," Katie says. "Stay safe, okay? And get me a souvenir."

"Pretty sure that’s not allowed,” Matt says, grinning. “But I’ll try.”

Katie punches him lightly, then shoves him toward his dad. “Go explore. Make history. Love you, Matt.”

“Love you too.” Matt looks back as he rejoins his dad and Shiro. _She’ll be fine_ , he tells himself. _It’s only a year._ Then he turns and steps into the ship.

 

* * *

 

Matt had _really_ not been expecting for humanity's first alien to be like this. Granted, he hadn’t expected to have an alien encounter at all, but being _captured_ when getting data samples was not how Matt had hoped it would go. They’re… vortexed… into the middle of a huge room, dimly lit by what seem to be purple fluorescent lights. There’s an alien in front of them, arms crossed (Matt assumes they’re arms, anyway. The alien _is_ humanoid.)

“What do you want from us?” Shiro demands. His voice is shaking.

The figure smiles, yellow eyes glinting. “So, a new species? Lord Zarkon will be pleased. We were unaware there was sentient life in this sector.” They (he? The voice is masculine, but Matt doesn’t want to assume) stride towards them. "So, what are you called?" 

"I'm Samuel Holt, and beside me is Matt and Shiro," his dad says. "Who are you?"

The alien shakes their head. "No, I mean your species name. You must have a word for it. For example, I am Galran.”

"We're human," his dad says. "We're from a planet called Earth. And you still haven't introduced yourself to us."

"You haven't introduced the others," they say. "Who are these other beings you have with you?"

"Our daemons. Ava, Dee, and Hoshi,” his dad says.

"Delightful creatures," the alien says. Then he reaches out and strokes Hoshi's wing, caressing the feathers. “I’ve never seen such beings.”

There's instant chaos. Shiro screams and scrambles back; Hoshi flaps her wings, _hard_ , screeching. Matt, Dee, Ava, and his dad are all yelling in horror. Hoshi's talons scrape the alien’s arm and she flaps away, behind Shiro— as far from the alien as she can get.

"What the _fuck,_ " Shiro says, voice shaking. He's breathing hard. "What the fuck was that."

"Yeah," says Matt. "What was that about?" He can feel his heart pounding, hear Shiro's yell still ringing in his ears.

"So, you are very protective of these... daemons, then," the alien says, as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn’t committed the biggest possible social faux-pas they could have.

A thought occurs to Matt. "Do you... do you not have daemons? What species are you, anyway?

"No, we do not. I do not know of any species that has such a companion."

"Right," Matt says. It's not the answer he was expecting, even with the complete breach of etiquette, and the fact that there's no sign of a daemon. Matt can't really wrap his mind around the concept— a person with no daemon? Granted, the alien isn't quite a _person_ , but still. How could anyone not have a daemon? Only non-sentient beings didn't have daemons... right?

 

* * *

 

They’re thrown into a cell. Matt wishes he could call it something else— but that's what it is. A cell, complete with bare walls, no proper bedding, no proper toilet, and it’s _cramped_. Even the flight to Kerberos hadn’t been this cramped. The only light is from the purple glow outside, filtering through the small window.

“Shiro, you okay?” his dad asks.

“I— yeah,” Shiro says. His voice is trembling. “I'm fine.”

“Cut the crap,” Matt says. “That asshole touched your demon. You're not fine, no way.”

Shiro shrugs. He carefully sits down on the floor and lets out a dry sob. Matt shifts over and hugs Shiro and wonders, _what happens now?_

As it turns out, what comes next is a lot of waiting. The light in the hall never wavers, flickers, or changes. The only way to track time is the meals shoved into their cell, on what they can only assume is a constant rotation. Matt loses track of time. The three of them set up a watch rotation in case a guard comes through, but it's impossible to keep it up simply because of their inability to track time.

Even his dad, with his practice being in space and man-made environments, is losing it. He looks composed, sure, but Matt knows that when Ava is constantly moving, pacing, something is stressing him out. Ava hasn't really stopped moving since they got here, even when she and Dad are in a fitful sleep.

Dee suggests trying to get Ava through the window of the cell, as she’s the only one small enough to _possibly_ fit through the opening. His dad refuses, though, insisting that it’s safer to comply with their captors.

 

* * *

 

Finally, _finally_ , someone comes for something that isn't food. He's so grateful for the change, Matt’s only partly wary. At least until the guard points at his dad and beckons.

“You're wanted.”

“Why?” Matt rises and he can see Dee’s hackles rising.

“My superiors have decided that you are to be sent to a work camp. You are unfit for the arena, and would be of better use there.”

“Take us all there!” Matt cries.

At the same time, Shiro says, “The _arena?_ ”

His dad reaches out. “It's okay, Matt. I love you. I'll find you both again.”

“Sir,” Shiro says. “Please.”

“I don't think I have a choice,” his dad says. “Take care of each other, okay?” And with that, he leaves, following the guard.

Matt stares after him, unmoving. Dee curls around his legs, pressing into him. There’s a rushing in his ears. _He’s gone,_ Matt thinks. _He’s gone and we’ll never see him again, he’s never gonna go home_ . We’re _never gonna go home._

“Matt.” Shiro is speaking. “Matt, it’ll be okay. Your dad will be fine.”

“You don’t know that.” Matt glances at Shiro. “He might not be.”

“You’re right,” Shiro says. He sighs. “But we have to hope. It’s better than sitting here imagining worst-case scenarios. Besides, he might be better off than us.”

“He’s right, Matt,” Dee says. “It’s the best we can do.”

Matt takes a deep breath. “Right. Okay. Best we can do.”

That night, the four of them curl into each other to sleep, daemons on the outsides of their body-sandwich. Matt sobs quietly into Dee’s fur, and he can hear Shiro’s uneven breathing too. Neither of them mention it the next day.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, they too are taken out of the cell. They’re put in a line with several other alien prisoners, and told to move. When questioned, most of the other prisoners just shrug, as ignorant as Matt and Shiro. Others just look at them, expressions unreadable. Matt imagines they’re pitying them.

Finally, a guard takes pity on them. “You’re going to the arena, to fight. The Galra do like a good show, after all.”

“Figures,” Matt grumbles. “We had to be right.”

“Sounds like it,” Shiro says. Dee growls softly, and she presses closer to Matt. Thankfully, it’s not very cramped in the hallway— he hasn’t had to warn anyone not to touch her.

As it turns out, they’re in the group of _unlucky_ prisoners— the ones up first to fight in the arena. _Myzax is undefeatable,_ he hears someone whisper. Because of course it is, whatever _Myzax_ is. Or whoever they are.

The guard points at Matt and beckons. “You. Get ready.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shiro and Hoshi say, together. Shiro adds: “No, I can go instead, I can—”

“No,” Dee snaps, at the same moment that Matt mutters, “Oh god, this is where I die isn’t it?”

He doesn’t want to die. Matt knows that— he has too much to live for, he has a family, he has friends, he wants to see Earth again. But instead, he’s going to be a gladiator in an arena for the entertainment of evil aliens. _Eight-year-old me would be so excited right now_ , Matt thinks hysterically, remembering his old desire to be a hero.

A guard is pushing him towards the entrance to the arena, and then suddenly Shiro is there, shoving him down, and Matt slams into the floor.

“Shiro, what—”

Shiro is screaming at the guard, and then he’s on top of Matt, screaming about blood. He leans down and whispers, “I’m sorry.” There’s a stabbing pain in his leg, and then Shiro is being dragged away by the guard, being thrown into the arena with Hoshi.

“No!” Matt cries. “No, Shiro can’t fight either, please!” He struggles to his feet, but his leg gives out from under him. Matt yelps in pain and returns to the floor, panting.

He lies there for a while, trying not to make a sound, until a Galra guard grabs his arms and drags him away. Matt struggles, but it’s futile. He’s taken back the way they had come, away from the arena. Away from Shiro.

 

* * *

 

They treat his leg, which Matt is honestly surprised about. Just from what he’d seen so far, the Galra didn’t seem like they would use resources on a random prisoner. And though they don’t fully heal him, he’s still given some treatment. Enough that he doesn’t lose his leg, enough that he survives the wound. Matt is grateful, despite how much he despises the Galra.

He’s taken to a work camp. The prisoners are put at assembly lines, making what appear to be the robot sentries that Matt has seen everywhere. It’s incredibly tedious, but Matt can’t help but be grateful that it’s not physically demanding.

He spends a lot of time looking for his dad, at first. After all, he was sent to a work camp, so _maybe_ — but it’s too much to hope for. Matt doesn’t see him, and nobody he asks has seen him either. It’s only Dee’s insistent optimism that keeps him looking, asking every new face if they’d met anyone that was the same species as him.

 

* * *

 

The other workers warn him about the druids. _They’ll take you too_ , they warn. Matt wants to cry when he first hears about them. Bad enough that he has to work in this godforsaken factory, he has to be dragged away for experiments, too? No thanks.

He’s not particularly _surprised_ that the druids exist. After all, this is the most totalitarian, evil empire he’s ever seen. Plus, he and his fellow workers aren’t doing a lot to benefit the empire. It makes a horrifying amount of sense to do experiments on prisoners— humans had done it throughout history, too.

The first time, Matt is expecting a beating. Maybe solitary confinement. Matt had (foolishly) believed that he wouldn't get the same treatment, that maybe he wouldn’t get taken to the labs. Not all species got experimented on, not all workers got taken away. Just the majority. Matt, in his infinite wisdom, had believed that humans had nothing special about them worth experimenting on.

He'd forgotten that daemons were worth experimenting on.

 

* * *

 

The days go by, on and on. The only breaks in the monotony of the assembly line are when someone new comes, or when Matt is taken to the druids. After so long, he’s even become desensitized to when others are taken. It often takes him several sleep cycles to notice when one hasn’t come back at all.

The druids don’t seem to have a schedule to when they take Matt and Dee, though granted he’s not very good at counting the cycles. He learns to dread the sessions, with the hooded figures that have to care but for the data they collect. They don’t care about being gentle, or even the basic social convention of daemon touching. The horrible feeling of violation and intrusion becomes a staple of the sessions.

Once, they inject him and Dee with a syringe full of something glowing a sickly purple, the same color of the lights. Matt doesn’t recognize the substance, but he doubts it’s healthy for humans. Matt feels it spreading throughout his body, burning, _searing_. He can hear Dee whimpering, sharing the pain. But the substance doesn’t appear to do anything other than hurt.

The druids have them do the diagnostic tests again— the ones they do at every session. How much they weigh, how tall they are, how far the bond will stretch, things that Matt had experienced at a doctor’s office back on Earth. And some others that he doesn’t understand, that involve alien machines and results written in alien script.

Matt hadn’t noticed a change in the test results, but something must have changed, because the druids continue injecting the substance in him. It’s the third session that he realizes what is happening— he and Dee can now stretch their bond much farther than they used to be able to. It’s immediately unsettling— bonds can stretch some before settling, but they usually don’t once they hit puberty.

It must be what they’re going for. The druids inject them again, and again, over and over. They increase dosage too, and no amount of begging gets them to stop, even as Matt sobs and screams from the sensation, as if his blood is being boiled.

Eventually, they realize… Dee’s not feeling it anymore. She’s not feeling the pain Matt does, and Matt doesn’t feel hers either. And as if that wasn’t enough, there also doesn’t seem to be a limit of how far they can separate anymore. It’s not something Matt had even heard of being possible, and it terrifies him. When they next see the druids, Matt screams himself hoarse, demanding to know _what the fuck happened_ , _what did you_ do _?_

They don’t answer him.

 

* * *

 

Matt decides he hates this newly strained relationship between him and Dee. The only positive is that they no longer feel each other’s pain, and the tradeoff is too great. It’s disturbing, to have their connection shifted in ways that they don’t understand. It causes tension— they argue far more than they used to. In a place like the work camp, having someone in his corner is too important. They can’t afford to be fighting.

Even the other prisoners notice their newly strained relationship.

“I never thought you’d argue with her,” says one, a vaguely spider-like alien the color of a buttercup, after a vicious argument over something incredibly petty.

“We usually don’t,” Matt says. “The druids did something, I don’t know what, and I _hate_ it, it _shouldn’t_ be like this.”

Dee presses into his leg. “It’s okay, Matt. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is, Dee,” Matt says, frustrated. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. That was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” Dee says. “We’ll get through this, Matt. I promise.”

“How can you say that, though?” Matt asks. He puts his head in his hands. “I mean, no matter what we’ll never be the same. We’ll still have this fucked up, broken bond.”

Dee falls silent. Matt can’t blame her, really. After all, it’s true— there aren’t any documented cases of people who can separate from their daemons. There are historical documents discussing witches, and the odd anecdotal account of severing, but nothing with substantial backing. We’re making history, Matt thinks, and then snorts. They’d been making history since the Kerberos mission— first to fly to Kerberos, then first to make contact with aliens. First to be captured by aliens. First to be enslaved by aliens. Matt is sick of making history.

 

* * *

 

Most of the other aliens don't have any hope of escape. Still, there are a few that quietly plot at night, when the lights are off and most are sleeping. There’s one worker, Tiro, that was part of a rebel unit before he was captured— he’s constantly advocating to fight back. We can’t just wait for rescue, he insists, arms thrown up in exasperation.

Matt had joined the little group in hope of forming an escape plan. To get out, so he can find his dad and Shiro. But the longer he works, the more it feels like the “rebels” aren’t going to organize themselves— no matter what Tiro and Matt say. They spend their nights talking about their experiences, about how terrible the camps and the Empire are. But nothing substantial.

"I'm lucky I ended up here instead of in the arena," Tiro tells Matt once. "It's only because the Eirene are pretty much seen as universally weak. We’re pacifists normally, so we get underestimated." Matt snorts. He’s seen Tiro take the worst punishments the guards give out, in order to protect other prisoners. There’s no way he can be considered weak.

"The arena is a terrible place," grumbles another alien, a new worker. Matt doesn’t know their name yet. "I was there for only five movements, and I would not wish it on my worst enemy."

"My best friend is there," Matt says. "He took my place, so that I wouldn't have to participate. He's the reason I'm alive."

They fall quiet. It's never fun to remember those they had lost, that might be gone, dead, missing, grieving. Matt carefully doesn't think about Katie and his mom, back on Earth.

“I’m sorry,” the new alien says. “I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”

“It’s okay,” Dee says. And the conversation continues, bringing up a happier memory— but one that ultimately makes them sad, nostalgic for times past. A conversation as useless as ever.

Finally, Matt snaps. “What is the point? Why are we doing this? All we ever do is talk about the past, or how awful it is here! News flash: it’s awful everywhere in this godforsaken empire, because that’s the way it is! But you guys aren’t doing anything about it; I’ve been here for ages and there’s never been any sort of plan to escape.”

The others watch him, shocked. Nobody speaks for a long time, until finally Tiro says, “You’re right. But I don’t know if there is a way to escape without the help of a rebel force.” And that’s the end of the discussion.

The rumors that a rebel force is coming start up maybe three months after Matt realizes he’s been separated from Dee. It’s not the first time these rumors have come up, apparently, but it is the first time they’ve come up when Matt’s been a prisoner. His hopes that they might be true are quickly dashed.

“Nothing ever comes of it,” one worker tells him. “Hell, sometimes it’s the guards who start the rumors, just so we don’t lose hope. It’ll die down soon enough.”

Their little rebel group is slightly more hopeful. They make a plan for if the rumors are true, to organize the others and get them to the rebels as quickly as possible. But Matt can tell that most don’t really believe that it’ll happen.

The rumors have been floating around for maybe ten sleep cycles when the alarms start blaring. They’re all in the factory, and Matt can see the others tensing, preparing to run.

There’s only one guard in this area. He looks clearly torn between going to the source of the commotion and staying with the prisoners. His dilemma is solved when Tiro grabs one of the heavier parts used in construction and slams him over the head with it.

“Let’s go!” He beckons to the rest of them. Almost in a daze, Matt is the first one to step forward, hurrying towards Tiro. The other workers follow suit.

“We need to get out now,” Tiro says as they head into the hallway. “Take the others to the rebels; I’m gonna go to the control center.”

This isn’t part of the plan, and Matt frowns. “That’s where all the information is. It’ll be guarded.”

“Exactly,” Tiro says. “The rebels will be looking for informations— I can help them.”

“You can’t go alone,” Matt insists.

“Yes, I can. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I’ll go with you,” Dee speaks up. At Matt and Tiro’s incredulous looks, she bares her teeth. “I mean, Tiro shouldn’t go alone. And I’ll make sure he actually makes it back to the rebels.”

“No,” Matt says. “Dee, you can’t.”

“It’ll be fine,” Dee says. “None of the others will help, either. You know that. And my form is good for fighting.”

“I’m going no matter what,” Tiro says. “Make your decision, quickly.”

Matt bites his lip. “Fine. You’d better get back, though.”

They hit an intersection, and Tiro and Dee turn right. Matt turns left, leading the other prisoners to where he expects the rebels to have landed. He goes as fast as he can, the old injury on his leg screaming at him. After a while, he feels the now-familiar violation that means Dee is in contact with someone that’s not him. Matt swears, and prays she’s not being hurt.

Matt runs into one of the rebels— literally. “Shit, sorry,” he says, gasping for air.

The rebel waves him off. “Are all the prisoners with you?”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “At least, the ones in the sector I was working in.”

“What about my twin?” Matt pauses, then realizes that the rebel is the same species as Tiro.

 “Tiro?" Matt asks. "Yeah, but he's still down there. He went to help the others get the information.”

The alien swears. "Alright, everyone on the ship! Quickly, before the guards get here!"

They don't need to be told twice. There's a panicked scramble to get onto the ship, but Matt hangs back. _Dee_ , Matt thinks. _What happened to her?_ But he can't go to find out. There's no time— a squad of guards is catching up.

"We should go back," Matt says. "My daemon is down there, and Tiro and the other rebels too. We need to go help them."

"We can't," the alien— Tiro’s sister— says. "We can't risk it. There's a huge chance of increased loss if we send anyone down."

"But Dee—” Matt protests.

"I know,  the alien whirls on him. "That's my twin down there, you think I don't know. I hate that I have to leave him behind, but there isn't a way to get them back. Sending anyone down there would get them captured or killed as well. The most we can hope for is that they're still alive."

It occurs to Matt that he knows that Dee is still alive. After all, he's still feeling that awful feeling of violation, and he imagines Dee clawing and biting the Galra guards, imagines her ferocity. A wolf form is useful, in a fight like that. He doesn’t mention it; he can’t, not when he can’t confirm the others’ survival.

 

* * *

 

The flight back to the rebel base is surprisingly uneventful. They’re pursued at first, but either the ship they’re on shoots them all down or they just give up. When they arrive at the base, they’re given food, and clothes, and told that they can be escorted home.

Matt doesn’t go home. Instead, he stays with the rebels for a while, slowly climbs the ranks. He's not really planning to, but it's not like he has a better place to be. He knows he can’t go home, not without Dee and Shiro and his dad. He can’t face his mom’s devastation if he were to go home without them. So he stays.

The other rebels understand his feelings. There's a huge diversity of species in the base— some who don't have a family to return to, some who's entire home planet has been annihilated. When Matt hears about these stories, he can feel the burning anger in his chest grow hotter, larger. He hates the Galra Empire, hates what they’ve done to innocent people all throughout the universe.

So he helps the rebels. He can’t go on missions; his leg is too much of a liability. Instead, he trains in the med bay. He’d first offered to help with coding and technology, but it turns out that’s the one thing the rebels have an excess of, which Matt finds incredibly ironic. Healing isn’t something Matt had ever imagined doing on Earth, but it's... nice. He finds he likes being able to help people in real, tangible ways. And though nobody listens to his instructions to rest, dammit, Matt finds that he likes the people he meets there too. He meets a huge assortment of rebels, of all different standings. After all, everyone goes to the med bay at some point.

He doesn't actually tell anyone about Dee. It's probably a stupid move, since he could ask for help in his search, but it hurts too much. He can't go a day without remembering her, without turning to mention something to her only to realize that she's gone. Often, he feels that violating touch (that he’s so used to he can now just tune it out), but Matt knows that shouldn't be the only thing he feels, knows that he should be feeling her pain, her emotions, her connection. So he keeps quiet, alone in his grief.

There's no comfort for Matt in the other rebels, anyway. As much as he searches, he finds no other species with a daemon. No species that could possible empathize with him. The only one that comes close is a species with a connection to their soulmate, but Matt knows that it's not the same. A soulmate is not the same as a soul.

The patients he treats love to gossip, as it turns out. At first it’s just griping about missions or relationships, but later it turns to discussion of the friends and family they’d lost, about their hopes and fears. Matt becomes their confidante, not just their doctor. He’s told about everything, and he knows he could confide in any of them. But he doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

"The Voltron paladins look like you,"  an officer mentions. He's in for a sprained... ankle? Matt's still not great at alien anatomy, but it's essentially where the ankle is on a human.

"What do you mean?" Matt asks as he splints the appendage.

"They look like they might be your species," he explains. "The way you look— they're either Alteans or humans, or some completely new species that looks a lot like yours." Matt's heard of Alteans, mostly from stories. They were the ones to create Voltron, after all. And many of the rebels have mentioned how similar he looks to the stories of the Alteans, so much so that Matt has grown sick of being told so.

"But that's impossible," Matt says. "There's only three humans in space, and the Alteans have all died out."

The officer hummed. "Well, Voltron is led by the last two Alteans in the universe, as it turns out. I never heard what species the paladins are, but they really do look like you, especially the Green paladin. It's uncanny, really."

Matt scowls. It's impossible, he tells himself. Don't get your hopes up.

"Well, you're good to go," he says, finishing the splint. "Check back in a couple of days so I can see how it's healing."

"Sure," the officer says. "Thanks, Holt." 

Matt watches him leave, then shakes his head and turns back to his work. Impossible, he reminds himself.

 

* * *

  

The sentiment keeps cropping up. More and more rebels  mention it, as they see him, even in the halls. Why don't you let me meet them, then? Matt asks finally, tired of not knowing what to say when it's brought up. They refuse, insisting that we don’t want to bother them. So Matt resigns himself to constantly hearing comments about it, never sure of the source.

He does meet them, eventually. Gravi, Tiro’s twin sister, is the one that brings one of them in— the Green paladin, judging from the armor color. She’s yelling for a medic, and Matt steps forward.

“Get her stabilized,” Gravi tells him. “The paladins have healing pods, but their ship is too far away. Make sure she can survive long enough to get to the pods.”

“Right,” Matt says. “Do you know what’s most urgent?”

“She’s got a bad head wound,” Gravi says. “And I’m worried about the wound in her gut, it might bleed out.”

Matt nods and turns to the wounds. The gut injury is pretty standard, though it’s bleeding more heavily than it should. Matt carefully cleans it and stops the bleeding, but the real shock comes when he takes of the paladin’s helmet.

_“Katie?”_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~~i'm not sorry~~
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> come say hi on [tumblr](http://ternaryflower53.tumblr.com)!


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